Because of me and my friends, the acreage out behind our place informally became the local minibike/go-kart track. Big boys rules back then. There was never any question of "liability issues". If you showed up, you run what ya brung and it was on you. Gas (at 27 cents a gallon) was regularly shared out by them what had with thems what hadn't, just to keep things rolling, cause more wheels on the track was more fun. Sometimes there were informal barbecues. They just sprung up. Not all of the coolers had sodas in them. There was also the occasional "World Championship Dad's Only Go-kart Race". Adult beverages may have been involved in this decision. Dad gave a nod towards Mom's (justifiable) safety concerns by stacking hay bales in the corners. Otherwise, don't worry. There's a steel wire cattle fence. "That'll stop 'em fer sure." And sometimes? It did. The fact that none of us ever died I take as a testament to God's known fondness for fools and children.